Burning Blood: The First One
by IamBadWithNames
Summary: A life born from the first Titanomachy and moulded by it, follow Daimõn the first human as he wields the destructive powers that gave his artificial body the curse of life. (Constructive criticism & tips are welcome)
1. Prologue

**Hey hey hey, first story up in here. Just so you know I'm having formatting issues and will try to solve them, other then that enjoy I guess - or not, whatever floats your boat.**

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Burning Blood: The First One

Prologue:

A year had passed since the young 'god' Zeus had freed his imprisoned brothers and sisters from their fathers stomach and led them to their supposed freedom, new to the world and hungry for revenge Zeus and his siblings begun a war against the Titans and its effects could be seen across the globe.

Their respective territory, Mount Othry's and Mount Olympus, they were surrounded by shattered earth, being crushed under the weight from the great footfalls of petrifying beasts, too wild to hold one true form together for long; they waged war with giants, almost tall enough to rip the clouds from their perch in the heavens, the giants were covered head to toe in huge, muscular arms. Creatures of this scale fought tirelessly, crying out the names of those they worshipped as they fell in their masters names.

These great beasts that had scorched the earth and blackened the sky's were powerful, yet even the havoc they wrought couldn't compare to the immortals who battled intensely; the true monsters whose battles could rip the world apart.

The Gods and the Titans war left pure destruction in their wake, ethereal weapons made of raw power scraping across the earth gouged out great canyons and bottomless seas, blasts of energy ripped the life out of swathes of land, leaving it desolate and barren. As the beings in question sought each other out demanding the heads of one another their figures were awe-inspiring and horrific all at the same time.

Each side had ascended to their true form since the start of the war, what was once the young and imposing form of Zeus was now a swirling pillar of pure, unrefined, energy. Only the strongest war-beasts could hope to survive his presence alone and those who did were left wishing they hadn't - as even the strongest of them were blown around like grass in the quakes that shook the ground constantly.

However, as all of this occurred not all the divine beings were waging war, two had been left on Olympus, one out of choice - the other, not so much.

One of the two slumped over a worn wooden workbench covered in tools and lumps of clay. On the table was a creature that took a similar form as him, the same amount of limbs and the same type of face, but all the features looked different. It was a clammy grey colour that looked a little like clay, the reason for this was because it was in fact clay.

He was carving out the lifeless husk of a creature that would soon feel the cold reality of living. Nevertheless, the man carving this being had yet to notice another presence, one just as strong - if not stronger - than his... Or so this presence thought.

"Hestia, need you disturb me when I am working, what is it and speak quick" he said in a monotone and muffled tone - his voice had a hard time escaping the bushy, unkempt brown beard.

"I need not - but I wish to" came the reply of a small girl (well, small compared to the gargantuan Titan before her) in a simple browny red dress and plaited brown hair. Her childlike features were spread in a humoured but caring fashion. "Can I not talk to you?" She asked, knowing full well what his response was going to be. "You can talk to me, so long as you know I'm going to ignore you, I have nearly finished and the final touches appear to be the hardest". Hestia pulled up the chair she had taken to leaving beside his workbench and observed the tiny being, it was difficult to believe that he had carved out something so detailed and small and not destroy it - like one certain sibling who rescued her would have done. Unfortunately, no matter how interested she was in the Titans creation she could scarcely see it behind his hands that worked non-stop, instead her eyes drifted.

As her gaze moved from the tiny creature to her surroundings she continued to be impressed by how little the hulking immortal required. Nothing fine and extravagant, just a simple bed rested upon the dusty cobbles of the floor, a cracked basin sat to the side of it filled with nectar and an unfinished plate of ambrosia that teetered on the edge of his side table. The room also appeared to be bathed in sunlight as the ceiling-less room was exposed to the elements.

Finally, a plain brazier held an oddly coloured flame, it was as if gold had decide to flicker and dance like fire. Hestia couldn't help but lose herself in the flickering flames and no matter how much she had asked the Titan refused to speak about it.

Alas, her wandering gaze had not sated Hestia's boredom, she had seen all this room had to offer and felt no need to look again; instead she looked at the one thing she had tried to ignore the most.

The Titan that leant over his workbench analysing his work was unlike any other Titan she had the displeasure of meeting, solely for the fact he hadn't tried to eat and/or kill her. His scraggly hair hung down loosely in front of him, almost obscuring his dark, charcoal eyes vision. She noticed the furrowed brow that was teeming with sweat and cheeks that were shallow. His pale skin had grown use to the fires light and his thin lips pursed in concentration had yet to say otherwise.

Hestia had no appreciation for this Titan, she had to try her hardest not to hate him for what he was born as, an effort none of Hestia's siblings felt the need to make. While he certainly was no friend of hers he had yet to show a reason for her to despise him any more than the cobbles beneath her feet. Hestia felt her eyelids begin to droop, the warmth of the fire felt as if it was warming her from the inside out, she couldn't help but derive great comfort from it.

A sudden clanging noise startled Hestia. Shocked, she whirled, wondering if some divine being had snuck into the Gods stronghold. Instead she heard a whoop of joy from behind her and saw that the Titan had laid down his tools ( more like dropped judging by the noise that had startled her ) and was marvelling his finished work.

Hestia felt her gaze lower to the lifeless husk before her, it looked a lot like the Titan, it had his charcoal eyes that happened to be staring upwards; glazed with never being, the same hair and the same chin and jaw. Strong but not overbearing. Powerful looking muscles that had been literally carved out, long lean legs that were made for running. Its big arms stuck out to the side and the hands to the ends of each were left open. It's mouth hung open revealing small, pearly white teeth that had the same shape and pattern as the Titan and Hestia alike. All in all it looked like a God or Titan. Just much smaller.

"What is it?" Hestia asked in a hushed tone that still made the Titan jumped. He had seemingly forgot she was there and Hestia couldn't help but have a smug smile at his, for once, surprised face. After he had resumed his emotionless façade he got turned to speak to her but she could still see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"This, is... hmm, I hadn't thought of a name to be honest, and it is best not to I feel, I have yet to finish it" he said as he continued looking over his creation. The clammy grey skin of the creature seemed almost healthy as it bathed in the golden flame of the brazier.

Suddenly the Titan moved across the small room and sunk his hand into the enchanting flame. Spinning on his heel he returned to the bench, he used a small metal tool to hold the mouth of the creature open before pouring the fire into its open mouth, with the aid of a funnel, and watched the golden flames spread throughout its body.

But still the Titan fiddled with tools and equipment, his creation looked alive but the dull gaze said otherwise. As he searched for a means to rectify this he found it in the shape of a knife and the same funnel. Placing the funnel above its mouth he held the tip of his index finger over the top and poked a tiny pinprick into his finger that relinquished only one small drop of golden ichor. Hestia watched the ichor disappear down the funnel into the creatures mouth, both Hestia and the Titan watched in total silence as the last of it disappeared into the creature.

They waited what seemed an age, both in a mutually agreed silence. As the Titan's giant shoulders slumped and the breath he had held in suspense was released in a cloud of disappointment onto the limp body of the clay model.

As the air reached its lips a shudder ran down its body. It's back curved in a sharp arc as the first of its many breaths were drawn in through pink lips and into the recently constructed lungs. As the energy pumped throughout it a sputtering cough came crashing out of its throat and escaped its mouth. The hands and legs that had hung limply lifted into the air and swung around aimlessly, unsure of what they were meant to do with the life that had been breathed into them. Its eyes were swung around so quickly Hestia feared they may fall out of their sockets as they drank in the world around them.

Its gaze was lifted upwards as the booming voice of the Titan called out to it. "Child, my first child, look upon me. You are my creation, my child, you are my blood, my hard work given physical form. I am you father, your creator, he who gave you warmth that you may cherish, he who gave you blood so that you may move and speak. I am he who gave you breath so you may breath and live." He announced proudly, Hestia marvelled at how the Titan was moulding not only this clay models appearance but its mind. "I command you child of mine, speak, run, dance whatever it is that life and I ask of you, do it!"

As the his words sunk into the figures mind she could see his mouth moving and forming noise, guttural sounds of an infant that she had heard during her imprisonment as a child, to more distinct noises; then letters until finally it uttered a single word.

"No"

Surprised, Both the Titan and Hestia stood motionless, shocked at its response, soon Hestia erupted in a fit of laughter, "Well, I guess he told you" Hestia coughed out between choking laughter. However, the Titans face told an all too different story than Hestia's face. Suddenly, his fist slammed into the workbench, dangerously close to the figure, that once again stood motionless. "You dare defy me, your creator, your Father?" The small thing seemed confused, it spoke quickly "Yes, I do not know who you are nor where I am, for that matter I don't even know who I am. I have no wish to serve you, just because you have made me doesn't mean I belong to you. Ask me something and I shall see if I will have it done." It spoke in a deep monotonous voice, it took Hestia a second to realise it was bored, and at this realisation she couldn't stop the smirk that quickly appeared on her face.

The Titan however was the opposite of happy, before finally his face calmed and he had an air of dangerous calm to him that made Hestia wary of whatever it was he was about to do. What shocked her more was when the Titan released a short snicker which quickly became a round of roaring laughter. When he had finally calmed down he wiped the small tears of joy from the corners of his eyes and his smile became a grin - he turned back to the figure. "Hmm, I think I know a fitting name for you, Daimõn... I struggled and struggled to make you, to perfect you, and what have I created? A demon that defies its MASTER!" And with that the Titan swung his hand swatting the creation away, and out of the distant window, the fall would be unimaginably long for a creature that small but at least when it hit the ground its death would be quick, Hestia sullenly thought, it isn't often you see a life spark into existence and Hestia preferred those moments to when life disappeared.

"What were you hoping to achieve by making that Prometheus?" Hestia asked cautiously, letting some of her power pool into her hands incase she needed it. However, he said "You needn't fear me Hestia... He was a prototype, something I was going to give Zeus when this war ended, creatures for him to rule over and have worship him and the rest of the gods. Alas, I must learn a lesson in humility today and start again, but this time I will not rush my creation. I guess giving it the blood of an immortal willing to betray his father wasn't such a good idea after all, don't you think Hestia?" He said, back to his usual emotionless façade and dull monotone voice, he could simulate any emotion he wanted but he seldom wanted to nowadays.

Hestia, simply squeezed the traitors shoulder and turned away from him and left the room, bolting her 'ally' in his small box of a cell that, from the inside, gave him the illusion of freedom. She wordlessly turned down the corridor and sat by the hearth, her preferred spot in the throne room her siblings had constructed; she watched the battles rage on through the flickering flames and thought of the small creature. 'He should hit the ground in a minute' as small tears stung at her eyes, she didn't like to see or even think of a creature dying and worse yet she felt as if she was already getting used it.

Miles away from the base of Mount Olympus a small creature, built like a miniature God, hit the war-torn ground with a loud thud, he had fallen through the sky like an earthbound star; cloaked in golden flames that cushioned his fall by making him land in a pool of molten rock. Daimõn, the name sped through his mind again, his name. "I like it" he uttered with a grin as a he stood; naked amongst churned ground and giant monsters too busy to notice an ant in the storm. With a slither of anger in his eyes he looked at the distant palace he came from - where his 'father' lived. The place was only a speck on the horizon, but still he spat.

Turning, he prepared to march forward toward the lush green forest in the distance before him, not knowing where to go he decided he may as well go there. The half of his body marked with the deep, disfiguring indentations of his fathers palm already moving bones, organs and skin into the right place as the cracks in his skull sealed, teeth regrew and eyes became solid again. Ribs that had been jutting out of his side moving back into place, the now powdery bones in his arm reforming to form a solid and strong center of his arm. His stare went to the pool of ichor at his feet, as his re-solidifying eyes focused the black gunk that stuck to the top of the ichor; not knowing what it meant he gave a shrug of his shoulders and turned his focus back to the forest nestled in front of the setting sun.

Suddenly, he broke out into a jog and began his journey across the no-mans land created by the beasts, starting down his path through history - paved with untold amounts of death and destruction.


	2. Black Blood

Chapter 1: Black Blood

Daimõn had managed to make it to tiny clearing an hour into the forest before he came upon his first bit of trouble.

"Halt! Go no further intruder, these forests are guarded by um, Gaia the earth goddess! She will strike you down if you take another step!" Echoed like a shrill bird song from Daimõn's right, it sounded similar to the smaller being that was in the room where his life had begun. After what seemed like an age Daimõn made his move by continuing to walk forwards, in what appeared to be a great display of courage; in reality, Daimõn had no idea who Gaia was and whether or not she would attack, and there was only one surefire way to find out.

After a few more steps a rustle from a large tree he had walked beneath became apparent, suddenly a creature that looked similar to Daimõn dropped out of the canopy. It had similar features to the smaller giant from before but appeared to older and a lot smaller, in fact this was the first living being that Daimõn had seen who was a similar size as him. His eyes quickly flicked over it, it had long, lithe hairless arms and legs that were covered in thin but easily visible muscle. Small hands and feet that seemed to rest upon the emerald glass lightly. As his eyes rose to its face he saw the green skin creature even had pale green eyes and bright orange hair that matched the trees leaves perfectly. The similar lips and nose as the small giant but a determined looking glare instead of eyes nestling mirth. As his eyes continued to peruse the creature he noticed large fleshly mounds on its chest and a series of leaves strung around its wide hips, he had enough time to see all of this before the left side of his vision went out.

Daimõn stumbled back from the force of the club that had smashed the left side of his face, he didn't feel anything but the act of hitting him probably wasn't done as a nice greeting. Daimõns hand met the second blow from the tree branch, turn makeshift club, before she pulled it away from him, thorns snagging and tearing at the flesh of his palm.

The green things face turned into a mixture of wonder and disgust as Daimõns face began work restructuring itself, he looked down at his hand to see the scratches had already sealed and any scars were quickly disappearing. Looking behind his hand he could see the club coming in for round three and deftly move out of the way before sending his clenched fist out and hitting the green things ribs with a loud crack. Daimõn had time to register the club falling to the ground before the green thing fell towards him with dark green liquid pouring from its lips.

He looked down at the crumpled heap against him as the sound of strained breathing reached his ears, he didn't know why but the thought of the small green thing dying startled him; perhaps because it was the first thing he had interacted with since his departure from his 'home', even if the interaction had only consisted of him being hit and then hitting it. It was something he didn't want to lose.

Putting one hand under its legs and the other under its neck he picked it up and began to walk quickly in the direction he had been headed, as good a place as any to go he supposed.

His eyes began to wander the body of the green being and comparing the differences between it and him. He didn't have large mounds like that on his chest nor a set of leaves his less defined hips, he began to wonder where he could get some of those leaves. After another ten minutes of walking, the things quick breaths were getting shallower and it had even begun coughing the dark green liquid onto Daimõns chest. With his only other idea being to leave it on the floor and hope for the best or call out for help, he figured he would save the first plan for later.

"Hello! Can anyone help me, this things hurt!" He called out to the forest, he didn't know what to expect, the trees to come alive and help?

"Who's hurt?" Said a similar creature to what he was holding as it crawled out of the tree next to him. Shocked, Daimõn spun on his heel and faced this new creature, "Who and what are you?" Were the first things that came out of his mouth. In return a sour expression graced its lips; "I'm a dryad, and by the sounds of it you are very rude, whatever you are". The angry response was made a little less threatening seeing as this newcomer only came to about Daimõns elbows, the one in his hand had reached his neck, but he kept a straight face and instead nodded his head towards the green, barely breathing, bundle in his hands.

The Dryad quickly regained its composure and pointed to a cave of to his right and signalled to follow, and follow he did. When he got into the cave he saw torches hanging along the side of the entrance and inside it, going all the way to a small room with various small metal tools dotted all over the place. "Put her here, she needs urgent help, did you find her like this?" It said quickly as he put the larger dryad down and rolled her over onto her back, ignoring the smaller dryads question.

She had seemingly forgot her own question as the small din of metal instruments filled the room as her hands moved agilely, one second examining the crater where her ribs were, the next pouring a translucent liquid on the wound and even making strange hand gestures like some sort of prayer. Daimõns eyes moved up from the smaller ones hands and saw similar features across the board; just lighter skin, smaller chest and a large bit of fabric hanging around her neck to prevent blood covering her.

After what seemed like hours she finished praying, prodding and pouring or whatever it was she was doing and turned to Daimõn, "I know you ignored my question earlier and thats pretty... Suspicious. Also, I have never seen something like you, well, I have seen things like you but they are currently fighting to the death and they're considerably bigger, like mountains. That begs the question, what are you?" She said, bright green eyes full of intrigue, Daimõn cleared his throat and answered back with "In regards to the second question, I don't know. I woke up yesterday and two giants were looking at me, one said he had made me and gave me some things, the other just laughed when I said no to the first, after that it smacked me out of the window. Your first question, I hit her, she was trying to club me to death. Trying". The smaller dryad seemed to contemplate things first before saying what was on her mind. "Well, at least you are honest I guess, you didn't do any un-fixable damage and you went out of your way to help her. Not to mention she's the type to fight someone she hasn't seen before to 'protect' others, I guess there's fault on both of your parts. Other than that, when you say giants I'm guessing you mean the gods made you, so I'll be damned if I know what that makes you, but at the very least you've got to have a name right?" She looked at Daimõn with a quizzical look, he was surprised she believed him but he had no reason to make her doubt him.

"I'm Daimõn, who are you? You said you know her" he said pointing at the sleeping figure of the taller dryad "who is she?" He finished, as curious about them as she was about him. "Daimõn, interesting name, I'm Drupacea, she's Exclesa, you can call me Dru, when she wakes up just call her Clesa, it's what I call her. We're friend in case you were wondering, I grew a little ways away from her". Daimõn nodded he lapsed into silence as he thought about what he should ask Dru, he figured he should get his bearings and ask something that will give him an idea of what do to and where to go.

Instead, he asked "You popped out of a tree earlier so I presume you dryads live in them, so have you ever got in the wrong tree?." For a moment Dru was baffled, not knowing how to react to this her mouth opened and closed for a while looking for an answer. "Well there was one time... Wait, you woke up yesterday and you're asking me that? Look, you need to know more important things!" For a moment Daimõn looked like he had forgotten all about trees and as his face cleared he said "You just wont tell me because you're embarrassed", Dru's face flushed dismissively said "shut up" before beginning to tell Daimõn the current going ons of the war torn world.

"Therefore, with all of the monsters on the loose we have to protect our community, in the centre of this forest is where the youngest trees are growing, we're trying to protect them. None of us have never seen something like you before so Clesa must have attacked you thinking you were a monster or something, I mean, you are huge and kinda scary." Daimõn was listening intently to the one-sided conversation and finding himself growing more and more attached to this idea of family Dru kept going on about, she said they all looked after each other, much like now, and she even said it was a vital part of life. Daimõs wasn't so sure it was as necessary as Dru made it out to be, at least he hoped not because if it was he could be in trouble. She had even answered his earlier question, albeit a little hurriedly and Daimõs wasn't surprised to hear she had but her tale brought a large grin to his face and invoked a hearty laugh out of him.

"Uhh, my head, oww..." As Clesa finally stirred from her long slumber. The sun had set many hours ago and was probably on it's way back. Dru quickly ran over to her friend and passed her the clear liquid she had been pouring on her wounds, but this time it was for her to drink. As soon as she had chugged down the entire jar full of liquid she began speaking.

"Dru! I'm so happy to see you, there was this giant, he was like three, no four times my size! He attacked me but I was too quick for him and I smashed his face with my club, you should have seen it, he looked like that guy behind you but it was mushier. But then, it un-mushed and it looked exactly like the guy behind you. By the way who is that guy?" She finished, her high-pitched voice sounding like bird song at the speed she was spitting words out at. "Thats the guy you fought, you know the guy who is 'four times the size of you', the guy who carried you here." As the sudden look of realisation came upon her green-skinned face she sat bolt upright and in the blink of an eye threw the nearest thing to hand at Daimõs. As it so happened the nearest thing to Clesas hand was a large knife used for cooking that had been resting near the kitchen area beside the bed, the knife that had found new residence in the centre of Daimõs head.

"Dru, why was he just sat there! Did you not see him!" Clesas screams penetrated the thick silence of the forest, "Clesa! You just killed him, why did you do that, he saved you!" Dru roared back, her shrill voice startling the birds nestled in the trees around the cave entrance. "Saved me? He almost killed me! He is a monster, you cant trust him, I caved his face in and it just fixed itself; he is a monster and you're a fool for trusting him!" After a moment of silence Dru turned back to the motionless form of Daimõn and sniffled as tears welled in her now murky green eyes. "Would you rather it be him or the little saplings back with elders? Look, I know you don't want to hurt anybody but sometimes we have to, I'm sorry okay." Clesa said as she stepped around the sobbing form of Dru and pulled the knife, buried to the hilt in Daimõs head, out with a sickening shhlck.

Suddenly, Daimõs eyes burst open and his mouth opened and closed for air, the gold blood flowing from his forehead, with a thin stream of black pooling along the top of the immortal ichor. Both the dryads looked at him in shock and fear as he sat back up. His hand felt his forehead and looked at the black and gold blood littering his fingertips. Tension filled the air and Clesa looked close to tears as she stared into Daimõs cold, eyes that betrayed none of his thoughts as he held the the knife, that had been in his head previous to this, by the handle.

As fast as the knife had entered his forehead a smile split his face and and a deep bellowing laughed erupted from his mouth. At first the two dryads were unsure but Dru began to laugh along with and Clesa had no choice but to be swept along with it. As the three of them raised a cacophony of laughter that swept through the forest breathing life into each individual leaf and filling the hearts of all the creatures with hope of better days. In one brief moment these feelings flourished before being cruelly squandered by the broad back of a falling giant made of storms landing nearby, shockwaves uprooting the small saplings in the centre of the forest and cracking the bark of the eldest trees. Great trees were uprooted and thrown across the field by the storm shrouding the God. Daimõs watched his two new friends face twist in agonising pain before falling into piles of golden sparkling dust that disappeared through the mouth of the cave. Daimõs face contorted in shock and despair and spun to look out the door at the otherworldly devastation being wrought before him.

Four giants battled fiercely, two verses two, while a fifth, the one that fell, stood back up and let out a roar loud enough to blow Daimõs off his feet and back into the cave, bursting out of the other side of the rocky cliff face the cave had nestled in. He could feel his thick blood pour down his entire body and around a large chunk of rock that stuck out of his hip, shoving the bones aside. As his head drooped down and hung loosely his eyes looked at the black liquid pooling at his feet, covering all but a speck of golden ichor. His body felt hot and flames licked at the side of his vision, the quiet pattering of small green footsteps drew him away from his reverie and instead to the small group of dryads in front of him. There could only be a few dozen of them. The now shattered cliff had shielded them. Unsurprisingly they were too scared to approach him, but as he looked at the dozens of faces each would remind him of his fallen friends.

The young ones too innocent to understand what was happening had the same innocence as Dru when she listened to his story. The elders trying to shield what must have been the 'saplings', infants too weak to fully escape from their tree, reminded him of the over-protective Clesa; the one who had practically killed him twice in near enough the same day.

Tears poured down Daimõs face as he remembered the beings fighting, their names burnt into his mind, the ones who brought this chaos by trying to usurp the throne. The brothers. The very thought of them tormented him and the flames in his sight grew larger, more fierce as the trees were uprooted all around him and dryads young and old began to whither.

The final shove came in the thin layer of golden dust that landed on the pitch black liquid spreading across the dead grass. It might not have even been theirs but it was enough to ignite a golden fire that spread across his body, covering him head to toe, spreading along the black blood like a wave of gold devouring everything in its path - dead or alive. The now mad with grief creation ran across the clearing further into the forest burning all in his path, all the while vowing vengeance against the gods in the name of his lost friends and those that had been killed in the gods 'just' war.


	3. Spilling Blood

**Chapter 2: Spilling Blood**

Daimõns retreat into the ravaged forest had lasted many a hour and by the end of it Daimõn was left with lacerations from tree branches and a hollow feeling spanning the tips of his toes to the bald scalp of his head. He had tried to rid his thoughts of his late friends and the Dryads he had stumbled upon. He couldn't remember that clearly, waves of golden fire filled his thoughts at the time but they felt more real than imagined, if the trail of destruction in his wake was anything to go by. All Daimõn knew clearly was that he wanted revenge for his friends deaths. He didn't know when he would take his vengeance, not how he would take it or who he would take it from. The Gods and Titans who waged this war? The Gods who made him, even himself. The conflicting thoughts filled his head until he could no longer think clearly about the events that had absorbed him, the rumbling in his head shook his vision and thoughts of those he had lost were torn apart. Not knowing what else to do he lifted his head into the air and ket loose a frustrated roar, all of his pent up frustration over his situation came out as a plume of fire encompassing his body and roasting the nearby ground. His bestial scream echoed through the forest, resonating with the creatures torn from their homes and heard, as they all tilted their heads up and howled with him one rose above all others in volume. Significantly.  
Daimõn stopped his roar when he heard a noise as loud as half of the trees in the forest falling, when he turned around he saw the creature that was knocking all of these trees over. It was a gargantuan beast, at least 30 ft tall, taller than any tree. However, that was not the most terrifying feature of it, its shaggy fur was only present in clumps on the skin as even that only clung to its bones with thin strand of rotting muscle. Maggots crawling along its decomposing ribs looking for even a small morsel of meat fell out, landing in and among the trees.

One landed a short distance away from Daimõn with a wet thud. Up close it was even more disgusting than Daimõn thought possible, greasy skin that covered pale white flesh leaked grease that poured off its featureless face which held only a gaping maw full of small, razor sharp yellow teeth. It reared up on its fleshy rear exposing a fat underbelly covered in excrement and bile, from wallowing in other monster maggots filth looking for morsels of food off of the great beast, and fat. A long, thin and pale green tongue flicked out of its open mouth and seemingly tasted the air, Daimõn noticed the whirling tongue favoring his direction before it fell back on its belly and slithered toward Daimõn.  
As it got closer Daimõn saw it was around 8 ft high, only a few inches taller then Daimõns impressive height of 7'8". The stench threatened to overwhelm Daimõn instantly, he didn't care for how it was possible for something to smell so putrid but either way, he couldn't help but wish it stopped existing. As the maggot slowly slithered toward Daimõn he noticed how the slimy grease was turning the grass underneath black and shriveling it - it even boiled away the rocks it bassed over. Daimõn backed up slightly, if the grease was toxic he had only one means of fighting it, the only problem was that he didn't know how to use his powers.

Flexing his hands Daimõn began to think about the golden pillar of flame and even tried chanting fire under his breath, alas, he couldn't summon something as little as spark. Daimõn continued to walk backwards, he had no lack of space to run. Or so he thought. Behind him was a great cliff edge, the Gods had evidently carved the earth even more during his rage and found himself being very grateful for his need to get well away from there, he had yet to find the limits to his regeneration and didn't want to find them anytime soon. However, there were more pressing matters at hand.  
Daimõn turned to see the maggot poised to leap to either side if he tried to run, this only left two options, either he leaps into the belly of the beast (literally) and fought it or going backwards and leaping off the cliff. However the choice was quickly made for him as the maggot jumped to him with surprising agility. Out of reflex his right fist struck out in a sharp uppercut and connected with the right side of the creatures face. Unfortunately, the impact tore the skin and a large stream of the fluid coating its skin sprayed out, dousing the right hand side of his body. Daimõn looked down and saw his skin bubbling away; had Daimõn been capable of feeling it he was sure he would be in agony. Quickly deciding his injury was nothing he couldn't wait out, Daimõn turned his attention back to the maggot and saw that what he first thought was his true layer of skin was more like a blister, containing lots of the acidic pus. But, what truly caught Daimõns eye was the exposed layer of skin his punch had revealed, it looked strong after enduring Gods know how long of its own corrosive fluids. Daimõn had a feeling that he would run out of his own arm before he punched through that carapace.

Suddenly Daimõn had an idea, it was neither smart nor fun but it had a chance at working, looking back at his hand he saw the white of his bone showing through the now gold blood, with a hint of black, and clenched his fist once again.

Without warning the Maggot attacked again and this time Daimõn swung again but aimed for the inner edge of the torn layer of skin. Shoving his clenched fist into the acidic substance he watched through the thin but transparent layer of skin as it burnt away the flesh on his arm. As the beast writhed in an attempt to shake Daimõns arm out causing large streams of the acid sprayed out and landing all over Daimõns chest and jaw, burning the skin away and beginning to work on going deeper. Waiting until even the bone in his arm began to break down he removed his arm to a little beyond his wrist, he waited a few more seconds before removing his entire arm. As he marveled at his grisly work he had to admit, it worked fairly well.

Before him was a short dagger of bone, still connected to his body, and covered in acid. Wasting no time he ran to the maggot that had wriggled away, presumably confused as to why its prey was killing itself, and plunged his arm into the previously revealed shell all the way up to his elbow and wriggled it around, gouging chunks out of its brain causing it to writhe in pain. Before long the putrid creature dissolved into a fine golden dust that settled in the ground, Daimõns arm had quickly begun to reform but he had no time to stop.

The great beast from before was coming his way, at first he thought it was coming for him and braced himself, instead it carried on walking. Confused Daimõn turned around, the tumbling of trees earlier had uncovered a small temple the beast must have missed on its first pass.  
Daimõn sprinted past the beast, easily overtaking its painstakingly slow strides. When Daimõn arrived at the small temple he wasn't surprised when it failed to meet his expectations. The walls had long since deteriorated and crumbled, the right wall had tumbled down and the large wooden door had almost completely rotted away. Through the rot in the door Daimõn could see a line of dirty pews resting beneath tattered flags all embroidered with large black scythe on a dark purple background. Running down the centre of the temples colorless, cobbled floor was a dirty red carpet stained a dark filthy brown. Cobwebs covered a tall golden statue, yet the webs could do nothing to cover the smell of mothballs and rat excrement. Dust began to fill Daimõns mouth and he could taste it and the dirt that swirled in the air, leaving an earthy after taste. Daimõn swallowed deeply before preparing himself.

Daimõn took his first cautious steps into the dark temple and listened to his footsteps echo off the high walls before the noise escaped through wall on the right, as if it was trying to escape the beast coming for the temple. As he moved down the path his hand ran along the forgotten pews, they may have once been full of worshipers but now the small wooden benches were disappearing into dust. Daimõn approached the dust covered statue at the end of the filthy carpet. As he stepped over rocks that had tumbled down in front of the statue he stretched his hand out, sweeping away the thick cover of webs with one hand. What he saw was a strange looking contraption, a large golden statue (slightly smaller then Daimõn) of a God or Titan standing proud, in one hand he held a golden bowl full of a crystal clear water that reflected the heavens perfectly. In the other it held a scythe, bigger then the man. Underneath the statue on the pedestal was a small inscription and a large hole. The inscription seemed impossible for Daimõn to read until he stooped his head and focused. "Kronos, Titan of Time" he read aloud, Daimõn was confuse how he knew what it meant but he wasn't really bothered how he knew it, so long as he did. Looking around he saw nothing else of interest, the only thing that confused him was how the water had managed to stay so clean in a temple as decrepit as this one. Not knowing what else to do Daimõn lowered his finger into the bowl, instantly regretting that decision.

As soon as his finger tips touched the surface of the bowl he removed them, however it could be too late for him. The small drop sent such agony through Daimõns entire body the least he could do was fall on his other hand instead of his face. The hard landing sent a shock of pain through that arm and he felt a crack inside it. A look of horror adorned Daimõns face, he was feeling pain and had no idea how he was supposed to stop it. Looking all around the room Daimõn searched for anything that could help him. As his eyes flitted left and right his attention turned back to the statue, he noticed the 'rocks' he had stepped over earlier, a large skull with room for only one eye, a tiny arm bone that must have belonged to a child, they all had one thing in common. They were trying to get to the hole at the base of the statue.  
Blindly following the statues Daimõn stuck lurched forwards and jammed his arm into the hole, he got it up to his elbow before it stopped. After a second or two of panic he noticed the pain had gone down and felt his fingertips drowning in a different, soothing, substance. Daimõn still felt the pain throughout his body but it had calmed significantly, having not as much need to feel it. However, it was brought back when the rim of the hole erupted with spikes holding his arm in place. Slowly, Daimõn tilted his head up, peering at the golden statue staring back at him, its helmeted face revealing only blood red eyes. In a blur of gold the statues arms moved and Daimõn felt a tremendous arc of pain tear through his back. Looking down he saw the tip of the golden scythe protruding from his chest, covered in golden ichor and a sliver of black. This pain popped up all over his back as the statues arm swung repeatedly slicing Daimõn up.

Daimõn had no chance of escape if he couldn't remove his arm From the strange contraption, but try as he might his vision was darkening and he knew this could be the end. Once again he tried to call on his fire powers in some vain hope of escape but like a fly in a honey pot he was stuck. 'Fine, die with me' Daimõn muttered under his breath as his abilities continued to die with him, maybe it was for the best Daimõn thought, after all his life hadn't been great so far and it would probably get worse. But just when he gave up the fight and let the cold embrace of death take him he felt a familiar fire at his finger tips.

Frowning, he wondered why they decided to help him now, as he lay on deaths doors. try as might though, death would no longer have him as whatever the strange water had done was burnt away the pain from his wounds disappeared and his wounds began to close. Standing on shaky legs he gazed at where he had been crouched and saw the great river of ichor flowing across the floor of the church in small dips in the ground. The room temple began to creak and groan as if it had grown tired of sitting and began to move. The bricks scattered and the floor receded in front of him as the thick smell of fresh ichor hung in the air and the column of dust blocked his view. He waved his hand in front of himself to scatter the dust and felt the thick grains give an impressive amount of resistance. Sat in front of him was a small belt made of dry and cracked leather. Dirty linen hung from it and next to that was a small tree bark sheath containing a knife. As Daimõn unsheathed the blade the light glanced off of its clean side and into Daimõns eyes. It was made of a strange material, noticing something familiar about it he turned back to the statue and saw that the scythe head was made of the same metal, not gold. Not knowing what else to do he donned the belt, covering his lower regions at last, and turned around. Unfortunately, he turned just in time to be struck by a very large paw tearing through the thin temple walls.


End file.
